


Two Months

by casanddeanlovecock (casblewdeanintheimpala)



Series: A Numbered Life [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Bakery Owner Cain, First Date, Fluff, M/M, Older Cain, Young Dean, cute puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 22:37:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16841806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casblewdeanintheimpala/pseuds/casanddeanlovecock





	Two Months

Two months. It has been two months since that night. Two months since Cain fell into bed with him. Two months since the greatest sex ever. Two months since falling asleep by him. Two fucking months since Dean and Cain cannot stop thinking about him.

He’s been working 14 hour days for the past two months and Dean has not stepped foot into the bakery. Did he something wrong? Was it too much? Too fast? Cain has been asking himself these questions for two months, and still, the answers elude him. There is no explanation that Cain can see.

“Hey, boss!” snaps him out of his mind. He looks over to Hannah.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Do we serve honey and whiskey cupcakes? There’s a guy at the counter who swears we do.”

They did serve those cupcakes, until two months ago. Right before Hannah came to work for him. Cain’s chest tightens, it feels like he’s going to get sick. All the regulars know that he stopped serving - stopped making - honey and whiskey cupcakes.

He’s going to regret this. “I got it. Can you just take over these guava pastries? They’re ‘bout done.” While Hannah begins cutting the pastries, Cain braces himself for those olive eyes and freckles. Through the window in the door, Cain can see that Dean is looking up at the menu. He quietly opens the door so as not to grab the attention of the other. Stepping up to the counter, Cain stutters, “So, uh, what can - what will you be havin’?”

Dean spins his body around to face Cain straight on. “Um… hi. I got a craving for those whiskey cupcakes. You still have ‘em?” _Not the only thing I’ve had a craving for,_ Dean thinks.

“Not anymore. Stopped making ‘em a while back.”

“Then I’ll just have a red eye with cream. To go.” Dean pays and saunters to the other side of the counter to wait for his drink.

Cain makes the drink as fast as possible so he isn’t tortured with the sight of him. Putting the sleeve on the cup, Cain gets an idea; he grabs a marker and scribbles his number. “Have a nice day, Dean.”

Dean takes the drink and nods with a tight smile on his face. He leaves. Cain hopes he never has to see leave him again.

It’s three days later. Cain is at the barber finishing up his shave when he gets a text alert on his phone. Two more immediately follow the first. Curious as to who it is, considering he only receives calls from his regular contacts, he pulls his phone out to look at the notification.

Cain has to stop himself from jumping out of the seat.

 **Dean:** Hey, Cain. It’s Dean

 **Dean:** I know this is long overdue but would you like to have dinner tomorrow?

 **Dean:** At my place, around 6?

Sounds in the room fade away. His vision tunnels so only the phone is visible. Cain is frozen in shock. He never thought Dean would use his number let alone to ask him out. With shaky fingers, Cain types out a response.

 **Cain:** Hello, Dean. Dinner sounds lovely. Just let me know where and I’ll be there.

Less than a minute passes before a text comes through with an address. Cain recognizes the address; it’s for the suburban part of the town.

Cain pays the barber and makes his way to the bakery. He has an order for 50 soccer themed cupcakes to be picked up tomorrow and hasn’t even started on them.

**_The next day, Saturday._ **

Cain opens the bakery an hour earlier so he can check on the cupcakes and be here for when the customer arrives. While wiping down the counter, the bell over the door rings throughout the shop. Looking up, Cain is surprised to see Dean walk through the door.

“Hey, Cain. My brother sent me to pick up some cupcakes.” Somehow the sentence comes out sounding like a question.

Trying to maintain his professionalism Cain responds quickly, “Yes. They are right here. All fifty of them.” He pushes them across the countertop. “They’ve already been paid for. If I may, who are they for?”

“Oh yeah. My nephew Henry has his last soccer game of the season. He’s done so good this year. He’s playing forward now, loves it. He’ll be the next Giroud, promise you.” Dean looks down and flushes a bright pink as he realizes he is rambling. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to talk your ear off.”

“No, you’re fine, hon. It’s obvious you’re very proud of him.”

Before he embarrasses himself any further, Dean picks up the boxes of cupcakes and turns to leave. When he starts to fumble for a way to open the door, Cain comes up behind him to open the door. Mouthing thank you, Dean walks towards his car. Before he gets in his vehicle, Cain raises his voice to say “Lookin’ forward to tonight, hon. I can’t wait.”  
Dean gets flustered enough to drop his keys on the asphalt; he nods at Cain and then leaves the bakery.

**_Saturday night._ **

The drive to Dean’s is more nerve-wracking than it has any right to be. Cain pulls into the neighborhood and his stomach ties itself into knots. Since this morning Cain has been unable to concentrate; he can’t devote his mind to one single task. Getting dressed took a whole hour, not to mention the 30 minutes on his hair. He settled on a navy tweed blazer, white button-up shirt, light denim jeans, and a pair of navy oxfords with his hair half-up and half-down.

Pulling into the driveway, Cain gears himself up for knocking on the door. He hasn’t been this nervous for a first date since Alfie, which was about a decade ago. He hopes he doesn’t fuck it up. With a sudden burst of courage, Cain grabs the flowers and makes his way out of the car to knock on Dean’s front door. Loud barking sounds from the inside; he can hear Dean hushing the dog and walking towards the door.

“Good evenin’, Dean. These are for you.”

Dean flushes as he takes the bouquet of purple plumerias and white roses. “Thank you, that’s really sweet of you.” Taking a step back, he says, “Come on in. Dinner is just about ready. I hope tilapia is alright.” Dean’s dog comes around the corner and runs right to Cain, licking his shoes and sniffing his legs. “Chekov, down. He knows better than that-“ he looks at Cain “-I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t worry, he ain’t a bother. And tilapia sounds perfect, hon.” Cain kneels down to scratch at the puppy’s ears. He becomes so distracted by the adorable puppy that he doesn’t hear Dean calling his name for dinner until he’s standing over him and Chekhov.

“Dinner’s done. Chekov is just trying to get you wrapped around his finger; he gets enough lovin’ from me and Henry.”

“He ain’t the only one to got me wrapped around his finger.” Cain grabs a hold of Dean’s hand and squeezes to demonstrate his sincerity.

Dinner goes spectacularly well. Cain learns that Dean is 32 (only ten years younger than himself), he is the senior manager of Ace Resorts, an international chain of luxury hotels, and he was raised in the city by his godparents Bobby and Ellen. In turn, Dean learns of Cain’s late wife Collette (she died of a cancer that runs in her family), that Cain opened Sweet as Honey because it was always his mother’s dream to own a bakery, and that he goes the local Y to help inspire and teach the local children as much as possible. They talk and talk for hours, moving from the kitchen island to the couch. First, they sit holding each other’s hand and somehow Dean ends up lying across Cain’s chest, with Chekov at their feet. They talk for so long that yawns distort their words and their limbs relax. Then they are both fast asleep.

The sun is shining through the living room window and straight onto Dean. He pulls himself off the couch and places a blanket over Cain to let him continue sleeping. Dean lets Chekov out the back, then goes in search of ingredients to make his famous french toast and coffee.

The smell of lemon, strawberries, and coffee waft into the living room and arouse Cain from his slumber. Looking around, he thinks that somehow Dean left him again, but then he hears the clattering of plates and mugs. Quietly, he goes to the bathroom and then sneaks into the kitchen. Wrapping his arms around Dean, he whispers, “Mornin’, hon. Whatcha makin’?”

“It’s a surprise.” Dean turns around to plant a kiss on Cain’s cheek, which turns into making out against the counter. They are quickly interrupted by whimpers at the back door; Cain pulls away to let Chekov back in. Dean continues with making breakfast as he watches Cain play tug-o-war with the five-month-old pup. Cain looks up at Dean and they smile at one another.


End file.
